


the shower scene

by chalamet



Category: Brand New, Straylight Run, Taking Back Sunday
Genre: Blow Jobs, Confrontations, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, M/M, Making Up, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalamet/pseuds/chalamet
Summary: John feels as if he’s being cut right open, every part of him exposed to Jesse, inside and out. Every organ and bone is open for taking, and Jesse plunges his hand right through the his chest and wraps his determined fingers around John’s slippery heart. It’s perfect, absolutely perfect, and John could cry.





	the shower scene

**Author's Note:**

> au where they don’t make up until jesse hears ‘your name here (sunrise highway)’ for the first time. the title is taken from a brand new song that i think goes well with this fic.

There’s a knock on John Nolan’s front door.

It’s hard and short, echoing off of the thin walls in John’s apartment and reaching him in his bedroom, cutting through the patter of rainfall on his window and the sweet sound of him strumming on his guitar as he tries to write something, _anything_. He isn’t expecting anybody, and for a moment he wonders if he should even bother to answer it—but another two knocks sound, and he thinks he better just see who it is, so he lays his guitar down across his bed and heads to the front door.

With a click of the deadbolt and a twist of the doorknob, he cracks open the door with the door chain still on. Standing there in the hallway is a man with his head downturned and his hands stuffed in his jean pockets, and the sight hits John like a ton of bricks, because he _knows_. Even though the man’s hair is soaked from the rain and covering half his face, and even though he’s clad in a jacket and loose jeans that cover his form, John knows.

He closes the door so he can slide the door chain off, then reopens it wide enough to let him take in the sight of Jesse Lacey in his full glory (or lack thereof). Jesse isn’t looking up at him—can’t bring himself to, John supposes—but John does enough looking for the both of them. He’s surprised, to say the least, and his eyes sweep across Jesse for the first time in all too long. They stand there for what seems like hours, all while John’s mind races, wondering what brings Jesse here, wondering what he’s supposed to do or say, wondering if this moment is even _real_. Both of them are beginning to think that they can’t take much more of this silence when John speaks up and breaks it. “You’re soaking.” he acknowledges, only because he can’t think of much else to say. It’s stupid and almost comically awkward, but neither of them laugh.

Jesse swallows hard and works his hands deeper into his pockets, fixing his stare on the floorboards beneath John’s feet. “I, uh, I had to see you.” he lets out, his voice sad and nervous, and John feels a pang in his chest like his heart’s about to implode. He’s aching for Jesse, he has been for longer than Jesse could imagine, and hearing those words _hurts_ him in a way he can’t describe. He wishes Jesse would look at him, would let him see his face, his eyes. After a few moments of waiting and receiving no such luck, he steps aside to let Jesse enter. He still doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing in a situation like this. The last time they spoke was a bitter exchange over the phone, and the songs— _God_ , the songs they wrote—and now Jesse is there, dripping wet and clearly depressed, close enough to touch. Is he trying to tear John apart?

Jesse steps inside, slow and unsure, his shoes squeaking. John closes the door and locks it back up, then turns around to find Jesse looking around his apartment. John remembers the last time Jesse had been there, and sure enough, he’s moved some things around since then. He’s sure Jesse has noticed.

John feels tense just standing in the same room as Jesse. This is the man that wished death upon him, this is the man that he knows he should hate but can’t quite bring himself to do so. This is Jesse in his apartment. John knows he didn’t come to fight, but he’s not sure if Jesse came to apologize either. He figures Jesse would know, though, and what better way to escape the heavy silence than to ask? So he does.

“Why are you here?” he questions, his tone genuine and free of spite. He can tell it’s hard for Jesse to be there, and part of him yearns to reach out and comfort him, to rub circles into his back as they hug. But no, they aren’t like that anymore. John pulled the trigger and Jesse got what he deserved... right?

Jesse takes a while to answer, opting to pull his hands out of his pockets and fiddle with the hem of his jacket instead. When he finally opens his mouth, he looks up as if addressing someone although John is still behind him. “Your Name Here. I heard it.” he tells, then turns around, and John can finally see his face. Jesse’s eyes are red and puffy and he looks absolutely _miserable_ , and John finds himself hating the sight of his former friend like this but he just can’t avert his eyes. He’s been crying, and John presumes the song pulled those tears from his eyes. He can’t tell if it’s tears on his cheeks or rainwater. John knows he should feel smug and smart, having made Jesse feel this way, but it doesn’t feel like revenge and it certainly isn’t sweet.

John eventually lets his gaze fall to the floor, and he leans back against the door. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling. Jesse looks completely fragile and John has no intention of pushing him off the edge. He doesn’t want another bout of silence, though, so he speaks. “I miss you.”

It’s an explanation as to why he wrote the song, it’s something he needs Jesse to know, it’s the sad truth. Jesse is standing only a few feet away and John _still_ misses him. He doesn’t feel like whatever’s standing before him is Jesse, but the shell of the man he once knew. He misses the real Jesse, he misses his best friend. Although he’s looking down, John feels Jesse’s intense stare boring holes into his head. Now it’s him who can’t bring himself to look up and face the man that cut him into pieces.

“I know.” Jesse’s voice is soft, but his words cause John to look up at him with a hardened stare and a set jaw. Jesse drove here in the pouring rain, eyes sore from crying, and can’t even say he misses John too. John wouldn’t even care if Jesse were to _lie_ about missing him, as long as he would get to hear those words spill past his lips. All of a sudden, John’s overcome with an urge to make Jesse _hurt_ like Jesse hurt him, and although he knows he could never bring himself to do it, he wishes he had the strength to. The worst he can do is deny Jesse the satisfaction of getting what he came for—that is, if he hadn’t gotten it already.

“Is that all?” John asks curtly, reaching out for the door handle as if he’s about to escort Jesse out. He doesn’t expect to get a reply as quickly as he does. “You broke me.” Jesse spits, his voice brimming with sudden anger, and all John is thinking is _please don’t let this end in another fucking fight_. He shakes his head as if he’s exasperated, wishing he was anywhere but there. How dare Jesse say that when he was the one that blew the whole thing out of proportion? How dare he say after writing Seventy Times 7 and putting it out for everyone to hear? After everything Jesse has done, after ending their relationship and leaving a heart-shaped hole in John’s chest, he’s still painting himself as the victim.

“ _I_ broke _you_.” John’s voice is snide, showing obvious disbelief in Jesse’s accusation. He lets out a sharp laugh, enough to let Jesse know that he thinks this is absolutely _ridiculous_. “You know how much you meant to me. You know I–” and John cut himself off there, because he’s not going to give Jesse the pleasure of hearing what he was about to say. In fact, he isn’t quite sure what he was about to say himself—you know I loved you, you know I wanted you, you know I needed you? Instead, he continues along a different track. “All those things you said about me. It’s like you never fucking _cared_ about me. And all of it was for what? Some girl who–”

“It was never about the girl!” Jesse snaps, raising his voice, and John stills. It takes him a few moments to fully process what Jesse said, and even then, he’s still not quite sure he understands what it means. The whole _thing_ was about the girl, about what John did. Was there something else that John had–

And then it clicked.

“It was never about the girl.” Jesse repeats, gentler this time around, and John looks into his eyes and finally sees him for the first time in what feels like forever. After their fight, John thought that everything they had was absolutely meaningless to Jesse, but now he sees. Jesse doesn’t have to keep talking, but he does. “It was about you, only you. And I–”

“Fuck you.” John interjects with a stone cold voice, stopping Jesse in his tracks. A minute ago, John’s primary concern was that this confrontation would end in someone getting punched again. Now, knowing that Jesse had felt exactly the same way as he had when they fell apart, he’s _furious_. He remembers the nights they had spent together in each other’s bedrooms all to clearly—watching movies, writing songs, rutting against each other between the sheets and moaning into Jesse’s mouth as he unraveled underneath the younger boy. This whole time, John had been under the impression that Jesse never cared as much as he did—but now that he knows Jesse _does_ , he finds himself unspeakably angry about everything Jesse has said and done.

“So it’s all because you wanted _me_ all to yourself, huh? You’re a fucking asshole. You knew I loved you, you knew how _important_ you were to me and– and you loved me too, then, huh? And you _still_ hurt me. You tore me apart. I couldn’t sleep at night, you– you were my first, my first _everything_! I thought I had never meant anything to you. How could you do that, tell me you love me and kiss me and _jerk me off_  and then turn around and dispose of me, sing about wanting me dead? How?” John’s voice is thin and wavering, cracking in certain spots and catching on suppressed sobs, and by the end there are tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s shaking, reduced to bits and pieces in front of the man he once loved—the man he still loves. If Jesse’s shocked at John’s outburst, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes a step closer and reaches out to place a comforting hand on John’s arm. “John–” he starts, but is immediately cut off.

“Don’t touch me.” John barks, yanking his arm away and pressing himself back into the corner beside the door. With Jesse so close, he feels trapped, and a reminder of what Jesse’s warm touch and calloused fingertips feel like is exactly what he’s trying to avoid. “And don’t you dare tell me I broke you. You fucking destroyed me.” He evades Jesse’s eyes by staring at the floor, but he can tell Jesse’s gaze is fixed on him. Ever since the fight, he’s wished that they’d make up, but if making up involves John giving into Jesse entirely than he’s not quite sure he wants to. He knows Jesse is all too capable of making him feel utterly worthless, and yet there were times when Jesse made him feel like the only person that matters. It was almost unnerving—you never knew what you were going to get.

Jesse lets his arm fall back to his side, and opts to use his words instead. “I was convinced you didn’t want me.” He says, voice low and soft, and John’s nearly surprised that Jesse isn’t getting all worked up over this. Still, he’s saying the wrong things. “You knew.” John scoffs, knowing full well how many times he told Jesse that he loved him, wanted him, cared about him. John isn’t sure what he’s expecting—Jesse’s always playing the victim, never owning up to things, so why would he start now? He just wishes things were different.

Jesse is persistent, though, and he’ll get what he came for. “I love you.” he whispers, quiet as if he’s ashamed, and John begins to think that nothing Jesse says will make this any easier. Although hearing those words makes him ache for Jesse, he can’t possibly believe that Jesse loves him. After saying everything he’s said, doing everything he’s done, John is wary of Jesse’s words. “You don’t put the person you love through fucking _hell_.” John snarls sharply, fresh tears welling in his eyes and threatening to spill at any second. He’s falling apart and Jesse is the one that pulled his threads loose. He wonders what will come out of all of this—an apology? A truce?

Jesse takes a step closer, and John doesn’t try shy away. He’s not looking up at Jesse’s face, afraid of what he’ll see, but instead staring at waist and legs. “You know I didn’t mean it, John, the things I said in the song.” His tone sounds genuine, but John doesn’t know if he should believe him or not. Jesse sang about wanting him dead in an assortment of ways, and that hurts John more than anything ever has or could. Hearing his own name from Jesse’s lips, though, it makes him yearn for old times when they were so much closer. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.

John sighs and brings his hand up to his face to rub his forehead. Being this close to Jesse is bringing back memories that are entirely inconvenient at a time like this when he’s still supposed to be upset at Jesse. “You were horrible to me.” He murmurs, and Jesse’s just barely close enough to hear him. He knows he won’t be getting an apology, so he hopes that Jesse will at least acknowledge the fact that he’s right. But no, John won’t even get that much.

“Come here.” Jesse coos, sounding ever so comforting, and this time John can’t resist when Jesse reaches out and touches his clothed upper arm. His hand slides down to John’s forearm, reaching bare skin at the wrist, all while John stares with parted lips. Jesse’s palm brushes his own, then he closes his hand around John’s and urges him closer with a soft tug. John feels as if he’s on autopilot and Jesse’s the one in control. He lets himself be pulled closer, and when Jesse lets go of his hand and wraps both arms around his waist, John _melts_. Jesse has always had the power to make John feel all sorts of ways, and although John had promised himself to never give Jesse the opportunity to use it again, he found himself wanting to give in. Jesse’s embrace is warm, even through his damp clothes, and John throws his arms around Jesse and clutches at the fabric of his jacket. He wants them to be as close as he can, wants to dissolve into Jesse’s body and become one with him. He feels a lump forming in his throat, and before he knows it, there are tears begging to escape his eyes once again.

He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into the crook of Jesse’s neck. “We were best friends.” John sobs out, his voice muffled by Jesse’s clothing. He doesn’t know if his words are a plea for a rekindled friendship or merely a recollection of better times. Warm, salty tears trickle down his face and drip onto Jesse’s jacket, leaving small wet spots behind. He’s at the mercy of the man in front of him. He’d do anything Jesse says. He’s a goner. Jesse lets John cling onto him, serving as a lifebuoy for his sinking body.

“Best friends means friends forever.” One of Jesse’s hands move up to the back of John’s head as he speaks, quoting his own lyrics like it wasn’t the song that ripped John apart. John doesn’t mind, though, not in this context—best friends means friends forever, A.K.A. they’ll always be friends, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health. After a few long moments that John relishes, Jesse pulls away slightly, still holding John in an embrace with one hand and carding fingers through John’s hair with the other, leaving only a few inches between them. They stare at each other, Jesse looking all calm and collected and John resembling a deer in the headlights. In this moment, all John knows is that he’d do anything for Jesse.

When Jesse’s hand moves from the back of John’s head to his cheek, John absentmindedly nuzzles into the soft touch juxtaposed against rough fingertips. He can’t bother to hate himself for being so easy, not when he can blame Jesse for having that effect over him instead of blaming himself. The pad of Jesse’s thumb brushes against his bottom lip, and all John can do is stare at him with innocent-looking eyes (although he’s seen too much of Jesse to even pretend like he’s pure).

“I missed you too.” Jesse breathes out, airy and sweet, and John is done for. _Better late than never_ , he figures. He doesn’t stop to consider the fact that Jesse may just be telling him what he wants to hear—he doesn’t _want_ to consider it. Ignorance is bliss and right now, John is in heaven. He’s high on Jesse’s touch and craves more. It’s been so long since he’s had Jesse’s hands on him, and for the first time in a while he feels fulfilled. He knows they won’t be going back to hating each other after this.

And then Jesse is leaning in closer, his shallow breaths ghosting against John’s lips. John can do nothing but close his eyes and wait, and a second later Jesse’s lips are on his. It’s everything he’s wanted since their fight and more, and John presses into Jesse with fever, like it’s the last time they’ll ever kiss again. Jesse nips at his bottom lip, then his hands are all over John’s chest, shoving him up against the wall behind him, and John groans and takes it. It reminds him all too well of when he used to hang out with Jesse until ungodly hours of the night, teenaged and horny and alone. Jesse was rough with him and John would be lying if he were to say he didn’t like it. He’d whimper and beg for Jesse to bite him, scratch him, _anything_ to make him feel _something_. Jesse still remembers, too—but how could he forget?

Jesse’s ravaging him, sliding his hands under John’s shirt and feeling up his stomach and chest. John’s been starved of his touch and now it’s crashing over him like a tidal wave. He forgot how good Jesse can make him feel, even when his hand isn’t on John’s cock. It’s addictive, and when Jesse pulls back for air, John feels immediate withdrawal symptoms. For good measure, Jesse licks a line from just above John’s chin to his Cupid’s bow, and John feels himself hardening in his pants. He’s hoping that when their time comes, they’ll find each other in the pits of hell.

Then Jesse’s lips are on his neck, kissing and licking and sucking bruises into it, and John fists a hand in Jesse’s hair and moans, high and whiny. Jesse knows how to push all his buttons in all the right ways and although minutes ago John loathed that fact, he’s now feeling grateful. He needs Jesse more than anything. No one has ever made him feel this _good_ and Jesse knows it. When John tilts his head back, baring his neck to Jesse, he’s met with a harsh bite in the crook of his neck. “Still so fucking needy, huh?” Jesse hisses before licking at the indents he left behind. His words have a bright red blush creeping up John’s cheeks. Although they’ve both gone much farther with each other, the simplest of things can flatter John when it comes to Jesse. Instead of agreeing, he lets out another airy groan.

John feels Jesse’s hands slide up his abdomen, hiking his shirt up until it’s gathered in at his chest. Jesse pulls it over John’s head and off his arms, leaving him shirtless, his bare upper half at the mercy of none other than Jesse Lacey himself. After tossing the garment aside, Jesse brings his hands up to tweak at John’s nipples, brushing both his thumbs over them respectively, then giving them a light pinch. John had always been sensitive there, and Jesse has him whining and arching into his unforgiving touch. Jesse grins, handsomely devilish, and it’s the sexiest thing John’s ever seen.

“You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” Jesse looks at him with lustful eyes and sinful grin and John, rendered speechless, can only nod. The only answer Jesse is looking for is ‘yes’, and luckily, it’s the only answer John can truthfully supply. Jesse lets out a short “yeah” in response and dives in for another kiss, and this time around it’s all greedy lips and teeth and an invasive tongue. John parts his lips and lets him, and when Jesse cocks his hips, John is suddenly aware of how hard the both of them are. He moans into Jesse’s mouth and grabs onto his jacket, pulling him closer, closer, _closer_. He hasn’t felt this whole in a while.

Jesse breaks the kiss by catching John’s bottom lip between his teeth, then pulling away. John is convinced that Jesse was made with the sole purpose of tempting him into sin. “Bedroom.” John whispers as Jesse starts unbuckling his belt, but he’s met with defiance. “No. We’re doing this here.” Jesse asserts, pulling John’s belt off and flinging it to the ground. John’s breath hitches—here, right up against the wall near the front door, where any passerby in the hallway will be able to hear every sound they make. Sneaking around and staying quiet isn’t a necessity anymore, not when there’s no parents or siblings around, and the thought of doing this so openly excites them both. Jesse’s thumbs hook onto the hem of John’s jeans and tug them down, leaving him in his boxers with a prominent bulge and small wet spot from his hard, leaking cock. A boy in a stitch.

John notes that Jesse hasn’t taken off one piece of clothing. He’s sure Jesse wants it like this—just anotherway to assert dominance, another way to make sure John knows who the boss is. John kicks his jeans off and Jesse nudges them aside with his foot, his hands sliding down from John’s waist to his crotch. His fingertips ghost along the outline of John’s dick, and when he thrusts into the touch, Jesse closes his hand over the clothed cock and rubs his palm against it. “Been wanting this.” Jesse says, his voice cutting through soft whimpers from the man in front of him, and John should be wondering if it’s the only reason Jesse came, but he’s not. Coherent thinking seems impossible at a time like this, and he’s not about to start overthinking this situation, not when he feels so pleased under Jesse’s touch.

Jesse’s pulling back the waistband of John’s underwear, letting his boner spring free. It isn’t as long or as thick as Jesse’s, but it certainly isn’t something to be ashamed of. He’s leaking pre-cum and Jesse’s barely even touched him yet. Both of them know that it won’t take much for him to cum, and it’s a pity, really, because John wants this moment to last forever. Jesse rubs his thumb over the tip of John’s cock and he lets out a whorish moan. Jesse grins again, and then he’s back to sucking at John’s neck. Jesse will be the death of him.

Jesse’s hands are slipping underneath John’s underpants, pushing them down his thighs, and John works them off once they’re past his knees. He kicks them aside and stand naked before his best friend, his sworn enemy, his secret lover. Jesse takes in the sight of his nude figure and groans, low and erotic. It’s been too long since he’s seen this. He can’t keep himself away for long, though, and before John knows it there’s a strong hand on his chest pushing him right up against the wall and another hand wrapped around his aching cock. John gasps, and while his mouth’s open, Jesse swoops in for another kiss.

John feels like Jesse’s bitch, and part of him knows that’s exactly how Jesse wants him to feel. He’s stark naked while Jesse’s fully closed, he’s got his twitching dick out and in Jesse’s hand while Jesse’s own dick is still tucked away in his pants, and he’s falling apart at the seams while Jesse’s as calculated and composed as always. Jesse’s tongue is in his mouth and he’s groaning into it with every flick of Jesse’s wrist on his shaft. It’s hard and rough and just how they like it, and they’re both left gasping for air when the kiss is broken. Jesse pulls back a little and spits down on John’s cock, slicking it up and making John moan.

“I bet you missed this, huh? I bet you’ve been jacking yourself off to the thought of this.” Jesse purrs, and God, he knows John all too well. There have been countless nights where he’s laid awake in bed, furiously working his hand up and down his cock as he thought of Jesse. He’s never been able to get enough, not when it was his own hand instead of that of his best friend. “Yeah.” John lets the word out between hushed whimpers, watching Jesse with hooded eyes. Jesse’s free hand is snaking up John’s chest, squeezing lightly when it reaches his neck.

“Yeah,” Jesse repeats, sounding too seductive for John to handle, “and I bet you haven’t let any other man touch you like this. I’m sure you have fags at your shows just _begging_ for it. But you’ve never given in, huh?” He teases the head of John’s dick on an upstroke, eliciting a high whine from the older man. John outstretches his neck, practically asking to be choked, and who is Jesse to deny him that? So he presses down hard enough to stifle John’s breathing, and the look on his face is enough to tell Jesse that he’s loving it.

After a few seconds, Jesse loosens his hand, and John answers his question after catching his breath with gulps of air. “No, no one else.” He rasps, thrusting his hips up into Jesse’s fist. Jesse’s hand snakes further up his neck, then continues until it’s cupping John’s cheek. “That’s what I like to hear,” Jesse says, his thumb resting on John’s parted bottom lip, “I’m the only man that gets to touch you.” Jesse slips his thumb into John’s mouth and John’s knees go weak, his legs shaking as he closes his mouth around Jesse’s thumb and sucks it in the most provocative manner he can. He feels fulfilled when Jesse groans, like his true purpose in life is pulling those sounds out from between Jesse’s lips. Jesse’s other thumb brushes over the tip of John’s cock and smears his pre-cum over the head and twitching shaft. It’s good, too good, and John feels weak. 

When Jesse pulls his thumb out of John’s mouth, he rubs it over one of John’s cheeks, smearing his spit. Jesse must feel John trembling, because in one swift motion, he wraps his arm around John’s waist to pull him forward, then lets go of John’s dick and and moves behind John so he’s the one against the wall with John’s back to his chest. John leans back into him and Jesse rests his chin on John’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around to John’s front. He forms a fist around John’s cock and resumes the same fast pace he had on it, and smooths his other hand out across John’s chest, feeling his warmth and racing heartbeat. John throws his head back on Jesse’s shoulder and moans.

His legs felt like jello, but with Jesse supporting him, he doesn’t have to worry about collapsing to the ground. With his backside pressed up against Jesse’s front like this, he can feel Jesse’s erection pressing against his ass, and when he rubs back on it Jesse lets out a moan. John realizes he must be throbbing, but his need to make John feel owned must be greater than his need to get off. John keeps pressing his ass into Jesse’s bulge, and he’s rewarded with Jesse licking up his neck and nipping at his ear. All this teasing and touching is pushing him closer and closer to his climax, and he knows he won’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“You know I’ve always wanted to save sex until marriage,” Jesse muses, and yes, John knows—it’s one of the only reasons they held off as teenagers, along with John’s nervous reluctance and the possibility of getting caught, “but I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t get to fuck you first.” And at that, John lets out the neediest whine he ever has. It’s unimaginable, how much that means to John. He’s instantaneously overwhelmed with a feeling of both arousal and deep affection. The fact that Jesse’s willing to give that promise he made to himself up for John is devotion in its rawest, filthiest form. John wants nothing more than to relive this moment forever.

“Yes,” he cries out ever so desperately, “yes. I love you. Love you so fuckin’ much.” He’s a rambling mess, his train of thought practically non-existent. He just needs Jesse to know, needs to say it, and the way Jesse thrusts himself against John’s ass and pinches one of his pink nipples is satisfaction enough. They’re wild animals reduced to a sex-crazed primal state. They’re a ship and a storm, John sinking while Jesse batters into him. They’re everything and nothing, the only two people left in the world, and this is the only moment that’ll ever matter to either of them again.

John’s close and Jesse’s hands are unrelenting, shoving him towards his breaking point. John is moaning like it’s the first time he’s ever been touched like this, humping into Jesse’s fist like the horny teen he once was. “Oh, fuck, Jesse.” He mewls, his hands reaching up to grasp at Jesse’s arm that’s slung across his chest. He feels as if he’s being cut right open, every part of him exposed to Jesse, inside and out. Every organ and bone is open for taking, and Jesse plunges his hand through his chest and wraps his determined fingers around John’s slippery heart. It’s perfect, absolutely perfect, and John could cry.

Jesse’s licking around his earlobe and speeding up the hand on his dick and yes, _yes_ , John’s about to explode. “Jesse, God, I’m gonna–!” He groans, and it’s the last thing he says before his moans reach a crescendo and he topples over the edge, falling into complete orgasmic bliss. His eyes roll back as Jesse squeezes streaks of white out of his cock, splattering across his stomach and oozing onto Jesse’s hand. He’s twitching like mad, but Jesse’s there to keep him stable. Aftershocks wrack his body as Jesse keeps stroking, albeit slower now, as if he’s trying to milk John of every last drop. It’s the best orgasm he’s had since the last night he spent with Jesse, and they both know it.

“You’re so good for me.” Jesse murmurs soothingly, giving John’s dick a few more pumps before pulling his sticky hand away. John’s chest is heaving and the convulsions haven’t quite died down, so Jesse keeps his other arm firm around John, holding him close. When John’s finally regained his strength, he turns around to face Jesse. John can feel his hardness through his jeans, and before Jesse can tell him to, he sinks down to his knees without breaking the eye contact they share. Jesse’s breath hitches as John unbuckles his belt. John’s never been particularly skilled at blowjobs, but he would always try his best the few times Jesse has asked. He’s messy and would choke when Jesse thrusted into his mouth, but Jesse’s never complained. In fact, he thinks that Jesse quite likes it.

He wastes no time tugging down Jesse’s jeans and underwear, knowing full well that Jesse likes it when John gets straight to the point. The sight of Jesse’s cock is familiar—still as big as John remembers—and although he’d never admit it, he’s missed making Jesse come with his hands and mouth. He’s always seen it as an accomplishment, something to be proud of. He used to worship Jesse’s cock like it was a God. After their falling out, he thought he’d never get the chance to again, but he’s beyond grateful that he is.

Jesse’s rock hard and leaking, and when John grabs his cock by the base and wraps his inexperienced lips around the head, Jesse throws his head back against the wall and lets out a groan that threatens to stir another bout of arousal in John’s gut. He sucks greedily at the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum and feeling all too slutty for relishing it in his mouth. Jesse’s hands fly to the back of his head, and for a moment he wonders what the wetness he feels on his scalp is before realizing it’s his own cum that Jesse left on his hands. He mildly notes that he’ll have to shower afterwards before taking more of Jesse’s dick into his mouth.

He begins to bob his head up and down, his tongue flat against the bottom of Jesse’s shaft and his cheeks gripping the sides. He’s eliciting these breathy little moans from Jesse, and John swears he’s never heard anything sweeter. Jesse’s hands only rest on the back of his head, applying no force whatsoever (or at least not yet). John uses his own hand to stroke the part that isn’t in his mouth, and brings his other hand up to Jesse’s balls, palming them the way Jesse likes. For a few moments, he feels in control.

Then Jesse’s pushing John’s head down further onto his cock, and John is starting to sputter, both of his hands stilling. “Breathe through your nose, babe.” Jesse grunts out, his face scrunched into the most masculine look of pleasure as he keeps applying pressure to the back of John’s head. John listens, because there’s not much else he can do, although there are tears welling in his eyes as he stares up at the man before him. Jesse’s cock is an intrusion in his throat, but Jesse wants in, he wants the wetness and the heatand the satisfaction of hearing John choke on his dick.

He’s still grateful when Jesse lets him up, and sucks in deep breaths around the head of Jesse’s dick. The hands on the back of his head, but they aren’t shoving him down. “God, you take my dick so good.” He breathes out, staring down at John like he’s the most important person in the world, and John licks at the tip of his dick in return. Then Jesse’s grinning at him and pushing him back on his cock.

John’s set on kneeling there and taking it, and he doesn’t push at Jesse’s hips when he thrusts hard into John’s mouth. He knows Jesse won’t hurt him and that’s enough for him to suffer through the gagging. There’s spit everywhere, coating Jesse’s cock and dripping down his balls and John’s own chin, and John’s trying his best to keep sucking but he discovers it’s difficult when you’re getting choked. But it’s worth it, all of it, because Jesse’s so vocal and it gives John all the incentive he needs.

“Oh yeah, take it, John, take my fucking cock.” He urges, holding John all the way down for another second before letting go. John pulls back as fast as he can, eager to breathe through his mouth, and John moves one of his hands to wipe the spit of John’s chin with his thumb. After gathering it all up, he pushes the thumb into John’s mouth, and John sucks it clean in seconds. “You’re mine, huh? All mine.” He says, low and soft, and John nods with the thumb still in his mouth. Jesse pulls it out and replaces it with the tip of his dick, saying “lick it”, and John can’t do a thing but obey. He flicks his tongue in and out, making Jesse moan. He wants nothing more than to make Jesse fall apart.

As composed as Jesse is, John can tell that he’s close. The signs are small, like the way Jesse can’t help but let out airy moans with every touch of John’s tongue and the minuscule twitching of his hips, but John’s already memorized them all. He pulls back a little, letting Jesse’s hard member fall out of his mouth, then diving his head down to lick at his balls. “Oh, fuck. Suck them, baby– _yeah_.” Jesse’s got his eyes fixed on the man beneath him, watching as John opens his mouth wide to take in his balls, and the sight is everything he’s always dreamt of and more. John is so willing and obedient and Jesse wonders how he was able to stay away for so long.

And then John is licking a wide line from Jesse’s balls right to the tip of his cock, teasing the head with his tongue like he’s trying to drive Jesse wild, and going back down on him as vigorously as he can. Jesse’s eyes roll back and John feels like it’s an accomplishment. “Keep going.” Jesse’s hands return to the back of his head, urging him to go further, and John does. He’s starting to gag again, but he knows Jesse’s quickly approaching climax and he wants to push Jesse right over the edge. Jesse’s thrusting his hips erratically and letting out breathy moans, and then he’s holding John’s head down and saying “swallow”, and John’s never done it before but he’s prepared to do whatever Jesse says.

Jesse suddenly stills, holding John’s head down, and he’s coming right into John’s mouth. It’s salty and a little bitter but John doesn’t hate it, and following Jesse’s orders, he swallows it down. Jesse’s looking down at him like he’s some sort of god and it makes John feel strangely loved. He keeps sucking even after Jesse’s done coming, letting him ride through the aftershocks, only letting Jesse’s dick fall out of his mouth when it’s mostly soft. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up, meeting Jesse’s eyes.

“You’re so hot.” Jesse lets out, sounding like he’s in disbelief, and John can’t help the blush that rises at his cheeks. Praise from Jesse makes him feel special, and when Jesse reaches up and strokes his cheek, he feels a strong sense of devotion to him. He leans in and kisses Jesse, and although John’s mouth taste like his cock, he kisses back.

“I have to take a shower.” John mutters as he pulls away, nuzzling into Jesse’s hand. He doesn’t know exactly what he expects—will Jesse stay and wait? Will he leave? A half-smile spreads across Jesse’s lips, but John doesn’t realize that the smile looks sad. “Alright.” He says, letting his hand fall away from John’s face.

“Will you stay?” John asks, hoping he doesn’t seem desperate but wishing that Jesse would stay. In lieu of a verbal response, Jesse wraps his arms around John’s waist and leans in for another kiss. It’s slow and languid this time around, more intimate than the rest of the kisses they’ve shared, and John delights in their closeness. He takes the kiss as ‘yes’—an affirmation that Jesse will wait for him—and when the kiss ends, John is left anticipating the next one.

He grins at Jesse before he leaves for his bathroom, not bothering to gather his clothes from the floor. He doesn’t feel ashamed being naked in front of Jesse—in fact, he can feel Jesse’s eyes on him as he walks away, and it makes him feel lusted after. He couldn’t be happier now, knowing that what he once had with Jesse has been rekindled, and for the first time in the entirety of their long relationship, he feels like they’re something more than two friends who fool around. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, they could really be something. 

The hot water washes away all the sweat and cum and every sin he’s committed. When he steps out of the shower, he feels renewed. He’s more than ready to start things over with Jesse. 

When John leaves the bathroom, Jesse is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and constructive criticism is appreciated, i love knowing what readers think of my fics! i don’t know very much about the backstory between jesse and john so some things in this fic may be off. i’ve been listening to brand new for years but i only started listening to tbs recently and after reading more about the fallout between john and jesse and checking out ‘there’s no i in team’ and ‘your name here (sunrise highway)’ i had to write this. i hope you enjoyed!


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